Sunday, January 10, 2016

Wonderful View XXIX

Ran aground on this untamed, barren, forlorn, and persistently hateful place decades ago, one starts to wonder if everybody was also ‘stirred’ to be here by some sort of universal enchantress?

A siren that coils and uncoils the titillating peak and pulses of the spear and cup, ensuring that even more and more shall ran aground, in this desolation… 

Friday, January 8, 2016

Good Sleep Bunny

I took the feathers of fluffy weather
Until it rains all the tears and cries 
Of a thousand feathers torn 
Off fluffy bunnies, kept in leather
Plucked and cast down the depths of filth 
An empty din of tatter 

Thursday, January 7, 2016

The Perfect Balance

When time passes by, I do long for the fuzzy 70s. The time when that illusive balance of ‘defiance’ and ‘faith’ lingers so beautifully in art and music…

As fuzzy as the rapes at Woodstock, the pretty long hairs of Manson’s girls, the piled cadavers on Jim Jones’ happy little hippie town...

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Wonderful View XXVIII

To lose or get lost is to be immersed in the thousands fold of conscious and subconscious realities…or so some say to me, in a bad acid-laden hunt, once upon a long, purplish, crimson night ago… 

Monday, December 14, 2015

Saintly Death

I used to dream of dying a heroic death. Defiant to the last gasp of breath. Clad in loincloth, armed with big-ass swords, axes, like Conan in the comics..Bathory and Manowar in the band photos…Defending justice, in self- righteous, brutal carnage.

Of course, one eventually grows up and realized heroism has no value other than in Hollywood. That violence and big weapons belongs to the sole monopoly of state apparatus on whom we can always rest our utmost trust and reliance for fairness, safeness and squeaky-cleanness….

No more needs for dying saints…we just need more saintly gadgets and applications to solve whatever little problems we have left in the world now…

Sunday, December 6, 2015


One cannot stress enough the importance of vetted experience, for anyone professing proficiency in spiritual guidance…If you haven’t been to the darker paths you surely cannot talk about leading others to it.

Why are we, or some of us, so addicted on being lead, spiritually, intellectually, technologically, culturally, anyway? I suppose that deserves its own thread doesn’t it?

Friday, December 4, 2015


Someone ask me once if I could ever be an optimist with such misanthropic view of life. Truly, it is interesting how some very unsettling and most intriguing questions, or conversational topics, could come up while you are out on a hunt, regardless of who brought up the questions/topics.

Since we continued talking about it at a ruin chosen before hand for proper homage to the hunting gods, I chose to reflect my thought on the surrounding circumstances. That in the face of structural decay, one could feel optimistic about a possible renovation of the structure, or of an inevitable destruction of the structure, both plausible in the future.

Surely, optimism is but a ‘function’ of each individual’s viewpoint is it not?  Just as music in its many genres/forms always appear to me as a reflection of the musicians’ true desire/heart. If the desire/heart is dark, so shall the music expression be dark.

If the heart/desire is misanthropic, so shall the ‘optimism’ be misanthropic.  

Thursday, December 3, 2015


I do like it when a fresh, bold approach to a certain familiar music genre teases my brain in such delightful ways, that one doesn’t even think too much anymore about who shall be the next game on the hunt. 

I’m sure my shrink will approve of this therapeutic approach of musical “teasers”…which also stop me and the knives in my heart from being constantly feeling ‘teased’ by her lovely legs, and disgusting jade-green brooch.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015


I gave you lust and genitalia so you can procreate
Spread across the planet with your kind
Master the land the sea and the skies
Spread wanton destruction on your scorched paths
For which you shall be grateful
And pay me by blood, in full
Children of pain and dying hopes

Monday, November 23, 2015

Old One, Again

The Old One told me there is no evil but the underbelly of the sacrificial holiness. No light without darkness, and no love without hate.

Duality is the law of this existence, and so shall it be the bane of this realm. Let there be no prudence without ignorance, and no peace without horrors.